


Family Affair

by Kat_o_nine_Tails



Series: Reliquiae Reliquiarum [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Basically Tony has a kid cousin he's suddenly responsible for, Cousins, Digging into Tony's family tree, F/M, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Tony Stark Has Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 05:59:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10551262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_o_nine_Tails/pseuds/Kat_o_nine_Tails
Summary: Honestly, Tony was as surprised as anyone to find out that he still had family left. He's just not sure what he's supposed to do with the kid.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Mary J. Blige's song "Family Affair"
> 
> This idea was conceived back when I saw IM3, but it only really took shape after AOU. And I'm only typing it out now because real life sucks.  
> And I pretty much realized just now how rusty my Italian is. ^_^'

There was a girl in front of the house.

Usually JARVIS wouldn't find that particularly odd. Sir was a celebrity of the highest order, it wasn't unusual for the paparazzi to stalk the house, despite its tinted windows. Sometimes ordinary people with iPhones would even make a detour to simply take a shot of a luxurious house on the edge of the cliff, even without knowing who it belonged to.

But this girl didn't have a photographic device in her hand, and she had gotten closer than most people dared. She was young, on the verge of teenagehood, with long wavy brown hair and brown eyes wide in astonishment as she stared at the size of Sir's Malibu home. After a minute of gawking she pulled a backpack from her shoulder. JARVIS expected a phone or a camera of some kind but she took out what appeared to be a torn envelope. She looked at what was written on in, then on the side of the window, where the plaque with the address was stamped.

By now it was obvious she had come here with a purpose, not just to look at the marvel of engineering. She stared at the envelope for a minute longer, presumably to confirm the address written on it, then visibly steeled herself and walked determinately to the front door. JARVIS was running facial recognition on her before she even took a step forward but he had a suspicion as to what she was doing here.

"May I help you?" He asked once she failed to find a doorbell.

The kid jumped almost a foot in the air and looked around for the source. Finding none, she clutched her well worn backpack to her chest and looked up at the speakers. "Um, is…", she fidgeted for a moment, "Is this house of Antonio Sta-Stark?"

She spoke with a heavy Italian accent and addressed Sir as Antonio instead of Anthony, something only Sir's deceased mother used to do. She was now faintly blushing at her clumsiness at pronouncing Sir's last name but otherwise waited for a reply.

"Indeed it is." JARVIS confirmed. "May I inquire after your name?"

"Uh, my name is Andrea Carbonell," she said, still unsure where to look. "Is Antonio here?"

JARVIS debated what to tell her. Facial recognition didn't turn up any matches, and the name search of known international databases and social media didn't find anything either. It was quite possible she was lying about her name but it was still better to check.

"Please wait a moment." He kept the entrance camera focused on her but she simply nodded and rocked on her heels, waiting. So JARVIS went to the workshop.

"Sir?" JARVIS tried to call over the Black Sabbath blasting from all four corners of the room. Sir was currently bent over the gutted Ironman suit, welding torch in hand to fix the damage caused by the last mission. DUM-E and U were holding the chest plate he was fixing.

Abruptly the music cut off. Sir made a noise of indignation and killed the torch. "What the hell, JARVIS? I was on a roll over here!"

"Apologies for the inconvenience, Sir, but there is a lady on your doorstep, asking for Antonio Stark. I was wondering if I should let her in?"

Sir nearly dropped the blowtorch. DUM-E tried to assist but all his help resulted in was a bruised elbow and a litany of curses from Sir. U whirred in question, unsure if his help was also needed.

"Aww, shit," Sir muttered as he pulled the protective gear off, but when he turned around he was smiling, "Of course JARVIS, let her in, tell her to feel at home! Lemme just go wash up a bit or I'll never hear the end of it."

"Sir? You know her?" JARVIS asked. "I do not have any reference of her."

"You probably wouldn't buddy, Internet's a bit beyond her." Sir smiled fondly as he wiped his hands, "But trust me, there is only one woman left alive who would call me Antonio and after, what, ten years? God, no wonder she decided to come here herself. Probably wondering if I'm still alive." Sir winced a bit, still smiling. "Yep, I'm definitely getting my ear chewed off. Might as well go make sure it's clean."

JARVIS was as thoroughly confused as his programming allowed him to be. Nevertheless, Sir said to let her in so let in she would be.

It wasn't as if JARVIS wasn't keeping his cameras alert and the Ironman suit on standby.

~O*_*O~

Tony wasn't kidding when he said he hadn't seen his Nonna in almost a decade. Alma Carbonell was a woman wrought in iron, who had not only seen but lived through two wars and came out on the other side stronger than she went in and raised two children along the way, one of whom was Tony's own mother. Honestly, if it wasn't for her and Jarvis Tony probably wouldn't have survived his childhood, much less his teenage years.

When Tony was a kid, he used to spend every summer with her in her little mountain cottage high up in the Italian Alps. "Would you like to spend a summer with me?" had been his favorite sentence back then, because it meant being away from Howard's disappointment and a couple of weeks being allowed to actually be a little kid. Nonna Alma was probably the sole reason he could say his childhood didn't completely suck.

Her home was situated rather close to a ski slope, so Nonna Alma had decided to open a ski shack at ripe age of sixty-five and ran it pretty much single handedly for as long as Tony could remember. It doubled as a bistro for adventurous mountaineers the rest of the year.

Tony had many fond memories of that little cottage.

'God, how old is she now, almost a hundred?', Tony mused as he toweled at his damp hair. 'And still braving the airport security to see me, bless her heart. I hope she at least hired someone to watch the shack while she's here.'

The last time he had been there was the year his parents died. He remembered getting drunker than he had ever in his life, and passing out in the middle of an orgy. He woke up in the hospital on a drip and with a pumped stomach, Jarvis in a seat next to the bed with worry lining his face.

The loyal butler had phoned Alma immediately and arranged her a flight to the USA. She had shown up at his parent's house with one suitcase, looking harried. Tony had almost apologized for pulling her away from her home and work but before he had the chance to even open his mouth she threw her case on the floor and wrapped her arms tight around him.

In her arms, Tony shook himself to pieces, and cried himself to sleep. When he woke up, he had his head on her lap as she was singing a lullaby and stroking his hair.

"Would you like to spend a summer with me?", she asked, as she always did. It was the middle of May, but it didn't matter. That year, she had quite literally saved his life.

Which made him feel doubly guilty for not seeing her for so long. He knew cross Atlantic flights were hard on her in her old age and that it was really _his_ turn to visit _her_ , but with the whole Afghanistan thing and then the Ironman and he forgot. Now he just had to stretch that excuse to about seven years ago.

She wouldn't buy it for a second, he knew. But it would make her laugh enough that she wouldn't be too mad at him. 'Sides, until Afghanistan _actually_ happened he was quite diligent in sending her letters, which was the proof of his love right there. Only for his Nonna would Tony Stark, tech genius extraordinaire, actually write letters on actual paper with actual postage stamps. But since a letter hadn't arrived for a while now she must have gotten worried. Well, time to put her fears to rest.

"Hey", Tony called as he rounded the corner into the living room, "long time no see you old cou-", he cut off abruptly when he saw a girl sitting on his couch, looking at a StarkPad with an expression of complete befuddlement.

"Err," Tony stared. The kid stared back. "You're not Alma."

"No," She smiled cautiously, "My name is Andrea."

"Right." Tony cleared his throat. "I'll need to have a word with J about not being clear enough when describing guests, but I'm sorry to inform you there has been a mista-"

"Did you write this?" She cut him off and presented him with an envelope. It was the very same envelope that had contained his monthly letter to Nonna. His address was still scribbled on the front. Tony took it from her and checked the inside. Sure enough, the paper with his blocky handwriting was his letter. He looked back at her with faint suspicion.

"I guess now might be a good time to ask for your name."

"My name is Andrea Carbonell." The kid was starting to sound exasperated, which sounded simply weird with her heavy accent. "Nonna said I find you here."

"Nonna?" Tony's brain nearly short-circuited. If Alma was her Nonna then that meant-

"We are _cugini."_ She frowned at her wording and tried to accentuate with hand gestures. "Um, cou-sins?"

Tony stared. He couldn't help it, alright? What was the protocol for your Italian cousin you didn't even know you had dropping in for a visit? Okay, he knew his mother had had a younger sister Sofia but he had literally only seen her in pictures. And where was Nonna anyway? She couldn't be here on her own, she was what, ten? What were you even supposed to do with a human you couldn't schmooze?

But she was looking at him expectantly so he supposed he should at least pretend he had any manners and introduce himself. Huh, been a while since he had to do that.

"Right, sorry I'm rude." He leaned forward and offered his hand along with a paparazzi-ready smile. "Name's actually Anthony Stark, but call me Tony."

"Tony." She took his hand and smiled. "Nice to meet you, Nonna talked about you lots."

"Really?", Would have been nice if he could say the same thing for her. Then again he probably wouldn't have listened. "Where's Nonna anyway?"

Andrea's cautious smile melted away like an ice cube on a hot day. Instead of answering she reached into her scruffy backpack and pulled out another paper, this one cream colored and tied with a ribbon. Tony's hackles immediately went up. He remembered that ribbon.

The pink ribbon Nonna always tied in her hair.

"She said give this to you." Andrea handed the letter over. Tony took it cautiously, suspicion rearing its ugly head. He had a bad feeling about this. The kid refused to look him in the eye. "Last what she said."

Tony could swear he felt the walls of his heart hitting the inner edges of the arc-reactor. With hands that started to sweat he removed the ribbon from the rolled up paper and unfurled it to study what it was written. The handwriting was familiar but it got shakier as the letter went on, a clear sign of an arthritic hand.

With his throat choked up, Tony began to read.

_My dear Antonio,_

_If Andrea has given this to you, then my heart has finally given up on me._

_I understand the anger you must feel right now, finding out about me like this. But death is a slow and patient suitor, and I'm glad I was able to spare you our courtship. You have seen the death of far too many loved ones in your life, and I hoped I could at least spare you mine. To not pollute your memories of me with the frail wraith I had become. Remember the I that was most dear to you, even if that was from the time you had blown up my favorite oven._

Tony almost laughed. Overly theatrical and absolutely selfless: that was his Nonna at her finest.

_My only regret is for the one I leave behind. You may not remember your aunt Sofia, you were but a baby when she and Maria had their argument and swore never to speak to one another. Andrea is the granddaughter she gifted me with, and then left to a better afterlife. I do not know of her father, or if even my daughter knew his name. So now that I am gone you are the only family each other has. Take care of her, for your sake as much as for hers._

_All my love,_

_Nonna_

If Tony were a lesser man or even a man more at ease with his emotions he would have probably shed tears. As it was, it was merely another chip of his already torn heart; he would barely notice another one was missing.

He looked up at the girl, Andrea, sitting with her arms wrapped around her waist. Kid looked exhausted. He couldn't blame her really, coming from the middle of nowhere in the Alps all the way to his front doorstep in Los Angeles, Asimov only knew how she managed that.

"How old are you?"

"Dodi- Um, twelve." And she barely knew English on top of everything, enough to get by but not nearly enough to hold an actual conversation.

Tony sighed. Well, what else was he supposed to do? He was literally the only next of kin she had. If she'd shown up two months earlier she wouldn't have even had that, since the palladium core had been slowly poisoning him from the inside. True, he was fine now but how long would it be before something similar came along and tried to off him? He had enemies left and right, both as Ironman and Tony Stark. He could count the number of people he trusted on one hand and still have two fingers left. She would become a target the moment a paparazzo caught her leaving the mansion.

If Tony were a better man he would have phoned Child Protective Services then and there and paid some couple a very nice sum to take care of her for the next six years and probably paid for college too just because he was nice.

But as he looked at her, weary and alone and probably more than a little lost, whatever remained of the ugly thing called a heart in his chest twisted a little. He knew what it was like to think you were alone in the world, no one to lean on, no one to listen, much less understand.

_'You are the only family each other has. Take care of her, for your sake as much as for hers.'_

So he made what was probably a very stupid decision. But hey, not his first, certainly wouldn't be his last.

" _Vorrei una pizza?"_


End file.
